The Zit
by Pocky King Windy
Summary: Yaoi: Yohji x Ken, Schuldich x Nagi, Omi x Aya - A funny, weird piece in which Nagi tries to break Weiß's defences using voodoo magic instead of telekinesis. Aided by Schuldich, things go awry in Weiß's stronghold. [W: Dancing Crawfords, evil Nagis.]


The Zit

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters! They belong to… whoever created them. Tell me if you're the owner, and I'll grovel at your feet, simply because you're the owner. Heh.

Warning: Yaoi, silliness and incredible bluntness in speech. If you flame simply because you don't like something in which you knew you wouldn't like and still read it, you're retarded. If you don't flame, you're a good man.

Plot Cockroach: Evidently, I have never paid much attention to this series of anime till about a week before, on the ninth of December 2002, when I was writing a gift to my friend. No thanks to him, I've started to think more on this. Okay, now, for the storyline. Hmm, I thought about this when I found a zit on my nose. I ate chocolates… a box full of them, and they appeared. FOUR, mind you, FOUR, at a time! I've never gotten more than two at a time in my entire dude-hood! And even then, it wasn't frequent. I'll never eat another lump of chocolate again, I promise! Oh, yeah, this piece centers round Nagi and Schuldich's messing around with spells, causing some problems to Weiß. It's light and silly, though. Just sit back and relax!

Pairing (if this is what you're here for): Yohji x Ken, Schuldich x Nagi, Aya x Omi.

_______________________

"Nagi?"

"Yes?"

"What in the world are you doing?"

Nagi opened his eyes and looked up. He had been sitting cross-legged and chanting in some weird language, in front of a book, with a pentagonal star on a piece of paper and an ugly straw doll that seemed to resemble Crawford, spectacles included, on the floor. In Schuldich's opinion, he looked like a wacko. No pun intended.

"What do I _look _like I'm doing? Yoga?" A faint hint of sarcasm resonated in his insipid voice.

Schuldich lifted his brow. "My first guess."

"You're wrong," Nagi said simply, looking back at the doll. His tone remained as monotonous as ever.

"Then tell me what you're doing."

Nagi sighed. "I'm casting a spell on Crawford as a tryout before I hit Weiß with it."

"A spell?" Schuldich was surprised. He knelt down and flipped the book over, inspecting the title.

'Voodoo for Dummies', by Encarta, practice disc included.

Almost instantly, he burst into a round of fitful laughter, which lasted, to Nagi's annoyance, five minutes. Schuldich sobered immediately when he was met with the dark haired boy's double-edged-sword glare. If looks could kill, Schuldich would've been dead and buried six-feet underground.

"Ja, good thought, though," the redhead sat down, grinning. Nagi smiled bitterly back.

"I'm nearly done," the boy said quietly. He shut his eyes and continued further, while Schuldich waited silently. He was dead curious to know what would happen, but the normal display of impatience on his side right now would probably end him with five months in hospital. At present, all was well. The redhead looked at the Asian boy, drinking in his physique. Slight, slender, dark hair, fair skin, complete with a sharp countenance. His attitude was one hell to die for, too. Schuldich licked his lips predatorily.

_Remind me again when he's eighteen._

Suddenly, Nagi's eyes flew open. Without a word, he picked the Crawford voodoo doll up, and swung it to meet Schuldich's gaze. On his face, a wicked grin was written.

Even that is sexy, the redhead noted.

"Crawford, Bradley, come, come, up the stairs to Nagi's room…" he sang quickly, the words jumbling up in his speed. The redhead sat still, and before long, to his shock, there, at the doorway, was Crawford, dressed fully in a suit. His expression was blank, though, and he stood vacantly before them.

"Yes, master?"

Schuldich nearly fell over. Nagi nodded, smiling with approval.

"Crawford, Bradley, dance, dance, singing to the chicken dance!"

Crawford did the chicken dance. He bent his arms and flapped them furiously, lifting one foot and the other in a synchronized manner, clucking as he did so. Schuldich laughed evilly as he watched on. "Even when he's in a trance, that guy always does it in a professional way," he said with demented glee dripping in his comment.

"Squawk, squawk, cluck, cluck, squawk!" Crawford sang, dancing to the rhythm of his song. Schuldich bowled over and howled with laughter. Nagi sat silently, watching with his artful blue eyes. He snapped his fingers, and Crawford stopped as suddenly as he came. Nagi stared right into his eyes, his mouth grimly set in a straight line.

"You will forget this moment in your life, Bradley," he said, with a queer iciness in his voice. "Now, awake!"

Crawford blinked, then looked around. He suddenly realized that he was in Nagi's room. The tall man looked at the two figures settled on the floor. One was howling with choked laughter, and the other sat silently with a book in his hands and a doll on the floor. Nagi lifted his finger and pointed at Schuldich, his expressionless face never faltering from its cold demeanor.

"He thinks it's childish to be playing with dolls."

Crawford nodded. He looked at Schuldich, and tried to look stern, though he was very, very confused at the moment. "Schuldich, leave Nagi alone. I don't want to see anymore nonsense from you."

With that, he left. Nagi blinked and smiled blandly at his success.

"Weiß, you shall suffer."

The redhead's laughter was soon conjoined with the icy, bitter one of Nagi's: preferably referred to as Nagi's evil laughter. The tone and pitch of that sound was deafening, echoing even through the main hall. Farfarello looked up from the blender.

"God's gone crazy."

______________________

"So, what's the plan?"

Nagi didn't even blink. "We're going to cast a spell on Weiß."

"I know, I know, what sort of spell?" Schuldich asked in a rather frustrated voice. Nagi could be painfully obvious with his designs sometimes. The Asian boy favored his with a strange, gothic, ghostly smile, so frosty that it caused the redhead to shiver slightly.

"I'm going to cast a pimple spell."

"WHAT?" Schuldich almost shouted, before an icy hand clamped on his mouth.

"Shush, not so loud."

"A _pimple spell_?" the redhead whispered hoarsely. "I thought you'd find something eviler, you know – bigger!"

"I have my means of choosing," Nagi replied quietly. "It might backfire on us. Therefore I found something small, to start with."

Right. Nagi may be a frigid, ice-hearted, cold little brat, but he had very logical explanations for everything. Schuldich nodded slowly, his green eyes blinking in the pale moonlight. Weiß was fast asleep, they knew. He had to work fast.

"It's a spell in which people in the ancient times used when they wanted to find their true love. A huge pimple will appear on the nose of the person looking for a spouse. Whoever who could see beyond the ugliness and still love that person shall be their one and only. Should they fail to find that loved one, it shall remain there for life. I shall cast this on the least desirable of the Weiß members and give him hell. He shall suffer from it day and night, and finally die a cold and lonely soul," Nagi explained meticulously, while spreading the book out on the rooftop. He stopped short, as did the redhead.

"That didn't sound complete."

Nagi frowned. "I noticed."

Suddenly, they burst into a round of hushed but evil laughter.

"That's better."

"Ja, much."

"Hmm."

"So, who's the least desirable of the lot?" Schuldich ventured to ask. It never occurred to him that ANY of them were undesirable. The cold redhead was, well, hot. The lanky tart was sexy. The youngest one was cute. The brunette was lively and good in bed. Tough, hey. Even Nagi was frowning now. He bit his lip.

"Anyone, I guess. Minnie, Minnie, Minney, Moe. Who's the jerk who needs the row?" he hit it on his index finger. Giving a quick nod, he turned to the redhead. Schuldich looked at him, and smirked.

_____________________

"Yohji!"

The lanky man stretched in bed. He knew that voice, and what that tone meant. It was simple: wake up, you stupid wench, and get some breakfast, because everyone's sick of waiting for you to do that and start working! But he resisted the thought. He loved to hear that voice, especially when it sounded annoyed. It soon faded, as if given up. The blond returned to his sheets.

Before long, though, he heard footsteps outside the door. They were soft, and sounded irritatingly polite. The door swung open and he head the footsteps pause for a moment.

"Yohji-kun?"

"Go 'way," he mumbled, flinging the pillow away. "It's still dark out."

Emphasizing his point, he pulled his head up and looked around with half-closed eyes. Silence reined the sunny room for ten seconds.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" the younger blond shrieked, covering his mouth in horror. "Yohji-kun!"

"What, what?" he jumped out, staring at his friend in shock. "What is it?"

"Pimp… pimp…"

Yohji was hurt. "Just because I'm a ladies' man doesn't mean I'm a pimp!"

"N-No! I mean, pimp… pimp… PIMPLE!" the word finally registered. "IT'S GAWDAWFUL HUGE!"

Now, if there was one word that people seldom heard this boy use, it was something near to a swear word. Gawdawful for one was an example. Yohji got the hint almost immediately. He scrambled to the mirror, and nearly fainted in terror.

It _was_ huge! The lump was red, pulsing, with a white head above. It was also strategically placed right on the tip of his nose, making it clearly observable. Yohji clutched his face. "MY FACE! MY BEAUTIFUL FACE!"

"You need a break today," Omi edged away quietly, his blue eyes as wide as dinner plates. "I'll… I'll go tell the others…"

"No, WAIT…"

Footsteps fell, and trailed off. A moment passed. Then, almost immediately, he heard a battalion of them. The others came stumbling into the room, each of their eyes as wide as the dinner plates observed in Omi's eyes earlier. They gawked at him.

"Whoa…" Ken was speechless.

"Takatori's sad behind…" Aya whispered in suspense.

"Guys…?"

Silence was deafening then.

"BWA WAH HAA HA HA AHA HAA HAHAAHAAH" the three rolled on the floor helplessly. Yohji looked at them in dismay.

"A PIMPLE! A PIMPLE!"

"JROWAEKRPWAKEFPKWEPRPPPPPPPPHHHHHHZZZZZZZZFFFFFFTTTTTT"

It was going to be a long day…

______________________

It had been an entirely nerve wracking week. His ideas for the perfect date had also been spoilt, with the girl running off so quickly that it would put any 100 meter sprinter to shame – especially with those high heels. Aya had been adamant about his working with them, pimple or no – said so with a strange gleam in his violet eyes. Then, the passive redhead lifted his hand, and scurried to his room. Behind the door, Yohji could hear clearly the muffled roar of laughter.

Omi thought that it was magical. No one could blame him. It had made the redhead laugh, after all. Besides, that redhead happened to be Omi's love of his life. Though, Yohji wasn't exactly happy with that idea. Most of the other schoolgirls ran off screaming, the women ran off looking shocked (it seemed contagious) and a few boys looked mortified. There was never a single zit in history to have freaked so many people out.

It was humongous.

And, it grew bigger by the day.

No one seemed to love him for who he was. Sure, he was hot, but then again, didn't women love him for his heart, and not his face? I know, that's corny, but hey, it's true.

Devastated, the blond flung himself under the covers of his bed. He scrunched himself up into a ball, wrapping himself up with pillows, rather like a cocoon. His stomach rumbled unhappily too – Yohji had skipped dinner after the girl fled. It was not a pleasant night.

He heard a knock on the door, and the creak of it being swung ajar, slightly. For a moment he suspected it to be Omi, one whom would come quietly to give advice or comfort. "Yohji?"

Ken.

Of course it was Ken! He'd always be there to help EVERYBODY. He'd grin and smile and beam at holy hell, and turn the sulking devils into sunny angels. One who was capable of forcing the stony redhead into letting him help in cleaning his wounds up. One who was always there to pick out fights with anyone being mean to anything else. He'd have this LOOK on his face that could cow cows easily. And then, after it was all over, he'd give them this smile that would melt them into a puddle of custard and kill off their very desire to eradicate him.

Sometimes it was scary just to be acquainted with Ken.

"What do you want?" he said, his voice muffled by the cottony sheets. The door creaked open, and he heard footsteps approaching his bed. There was a clang of an object, somewhat like a tray, placed on his bedside table. The bed sank a little deeper: Ken was sitting on it.

"Um, you hadn't eaten anything yet," the brunette sounded a little unsure. His normally jovial tone was slightly thoughtful. "So I got you dinner in bed."

"How nice," the reply came sourly.

"Hey, um…" there was a slight shuffling of feet on the floor. The voice he heard sounded strangely timid. In fact, it sounded almost Omi! Yohji looked up, almost expecting to see the blond there, but no, in his place was the vibrant Ken, boy bravado. He looked a little bothered, though, therefore Yohji bit his tongue. Ken looked at him, smiling slightly. "I'm sorry I laughed at you before."

"Well, yeah, you're forgiven." Aya hadn't been any kinder. Well, at least he tried to hide the fact that he had to roar each time he saw the blond. Yohji sighed.

"You know… actually, I was shocked then," Ken said, a little flustered. "I didn't feel like laughing, but when Aya did, I just had to. I've never really seen him laugh like that. It was…"

"Magical," Yohji said, managing to crack a grin. "Yeah, Omi said that."

"Well, I'd like to think that maybe it was," the brunette smiled dreamily, cheerfully. Smiles frequently invaded his face. "You know, something special that comes only once in a while." His tone became serious. "I sincerely never imagined the day when you'd be inflicted with acne. You… you always looked so good, you have perfect skin and everything, and great taste in clothes… not… not like me, see; I'm so plain and so boring and so… unattractive! You shouldn't feel down just because you have a pimple! It'll go away, it will! I know it will!"

Serious as his earlier tone was, Ken's voice faded into one of childish audacity. He seemed so… right. Yohji fought an urge to smile. "Yeah, guess you're right."

Ken nodded. He was selflessly happy for everyone. But this time he had better advice.

"We're your family, don't forget that. If you're sad, we're sad," he said. "Your problems are our problems, too. But when you're happy, we're all happy together. The girls may run off screaming, but you have us…"

Ken looked down. "At least… you'd have… me. If… if you'd accept that."

The blond gazed at the brunette silently. Ken had always been full of life and love – even though it was reckless and irritating at times, it was there, and the feeling was strong. Not even Aya could deny it. How could Yohji deny it, then? He felt it; the power was immense.

And it was warm.

Pleasant.

Yohji stared at his companion, longing in his eyes. The sweet taste of joy, tinged with fear ran lightly through his tongue. "I would…" he clasped his hands onto Ken's. There was a smile on his face. "If you would too, no matter how ugly I am."

Ken looked adoringly at him. "I would… I'd never noticed it much, anyway. I think… I think I like you… for you. Y-You're not ugly, Yohji. You can never be ugly."

They inched in closer; Yohji closed his eyes. Closer, closer… in he leaned; he felt the warm breath upon his cheeks, and then the soft, supple –

"WAAAAAAAI!"

Yohji jumped and glanced around, frightened, thinking that someone had caught them red handed. Ken was staring at his nose in fascination. "Yohji! You… your pimple! It's GONE!"

"It is? IT IS???" The blond rushed to the mirror, followed by the brunette. He surveyed it hopefully, and to his delight, it had vanished! Without a trace! "Hasta la vista, pimple!" he looked at Ken, who was smiling in a faint, dreamy manner, again. "It was…"

"Magical."

________________________

"Foiled!" Nagi sat down hard, frowning furiously. He bit his lip as he thought, Schuldich sitting thoughtfully beside him, playing with his red bangs. His bed creaked under the Asian boy's suppressed wrath… oh wait; make that THEIR bed. It had taken them ten minutes after the affair on the rooftop to realize the feelings they had for one another.

That led to something great. Everyone was happy, except Bradley, maybe. Schuldich was happy; he didn't need to wait till Nagi turned eighteen. Nagi was pleased; he didn't need to mope alone too much now, being too preoccupied with… trivial affairs. And Farfarello was happy, because love between to evil boys hurt god.

"Maybe we could think of another –"

There was a crash coming from Crawford's room, followed by an agonized yell. The others rushed to the scene, puzzled.

There, right there on the man's nose, was a large pimple, size of a penny. Crawford glared at them.

 "NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII~!"

~*~ End ~*~

Note: My last on this series, I suppose. Quite a canonical pairing, this. But me likes!


End file.
